


marked by the watch

by jswoon2



Series: he stole her [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 01:59:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jswoon2/pseuds/jswoon2
Summary: “She has Stark blood,” Lyanna reminds him. She reaches out to pinch his nose as she often would when he got on her nerves. “Find her and bring her home.”





	marked by the watch

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd, only proofread. comments and kudos are lovely!

Between Bran’s accident and Joanna’s disappearance, Ned hasn’t slept in days. Ben tries his best to soothe his brother’s concerns but he’s due to return to the Wall so he leaves his brother reluctantly. He doesn’t mean to pressure young Robb but he looks at his brother and his bitter and grieving sister-in-law and decides it must be done.

“Take care of them,” he tells Robb.

The boy, all but fourteen, nods seriously. The line of his jaw is set but Benjen can see his nephew’s resolve tremble. “Can you find her?”

Benjen knows better than to make empty promises. Still, he puts his hands on the boy’s shoulders and offers a small smile. “I will try.” That is enough.

With his small party of six and the Lannister dwarf, they depart for the Wall.

Lord Tyrion complains often about the cold causing Ben to wish that Commander Mormont send him beyond the Wall as soon as they arrive. His skin itches from staying in the same place for too long.

Ned, Robb, and Arya had all asked him to bring Joanna home. Even King Robert between drinking wine and ignoring his queen he managed to make the request of Ben as if that’s his duty as a ranger. To collect girls who’ve run away from home.

“You believe she ran away,” Tyrion observes over the fire. Ben took first watch and he thought the Lannister had fallen asleep in the midst of reading.

“I do.”

“Then surely you must also think that Lord Stark is looking in the wrong direction,” Tyrion guesses.

Benjen shrugs only to bring warmth to his shoulders. He had been feeling a bit stiff. “It would be unwise to go beyond the Wall. Winter is coming.”

“You Starks and your obsession with winter,” Tyrion scoffs. “I could see why a young girl might believe going beyond the Wall might bring herself freedom. The wildlings are savages. They don’t care for titles. Although, I suppose if she flees far enough south, Dorne would welcome a lady like Joanna. Bastard or no."

“She wouldn’t survive,” Benjen answers simply.

“Where?” Tyrion asks.

Ben hesitates. Joanna has the north within her but even a Stark can get cold. “Both, I suppose. She won’t make it south without King Robert’s party finding her though, if that’s where she went. If she went for the Wall,” he begins contemplatively, unable to finish his sentence.

Tyrion closes his book and wraps his coat tighter around himself. “Then I suggest you catch up to her quickly lest winter finds her first.”

 

*

 

Benjen spends a short time back on the Wall before he’s sent out again. He thinks of his niece. She couldn’t have gotten far going north or south. None of the horses were missing from the stable and all of her things were left in her room. Not even one of her things were out of place until Ned turned Winterfell upside down looking for her.

Briefly, Ben wonders if his brother was stupid enough to delay his travels to King’s Landing to search for her or if he rushed King Robert so that he could send a search party ahead. Why his brother insists on keeping her locked away in a tower, Benjen doesn’t understand. She’s just a bastard. But the longer he thinks of Ned and Joanna the more he pictures her face and soon he finds himself imagining his sister in front of him shaking her head at him.

“She has Stark blood,” Lyanna reminds him. She reaches out to pinch his nose as she often would when he got on her nerves. “Find her and bring her home.”

In the morning, Ben looks at his companions carefully to make sure he hadn’t been talking in his sleep. They say nothing.

After that, Benjen is careful about what he dreams of. He still pictures Lyanna and his niece. Sometimes it seems like they’re one person. Those dreams leave him feeling the most unsure.

 

***

 

Ygritte believes in self-preservation but pride isn’t worth dying in the cold.

Joanna helps Ygritte pack up the few things that they have because it’s time to leave. She doesn’t want to leave without Ghost so she purposely dillydallies. Ghost is independent of the two humans so he doesn’t seem to realize that Ygritte intends on leaving him behind. Ygritte can accept Joanna being mad at him if it means that they can acquire food and better shelter.

To comfort her, perhaps he can convince her that after they go to see the old man Craster, they can return to their little hideaway.

Surprisingly, Joanna is quiet when they live. She protests little when she mentions Ghost and Ygritte disregards her.

Craster is a crude man. He may be a free folk but he also has been known for shaking hands with the Night’s Watch. He has a hoard of daughters though and so long as Ygritte can provide something to Craster, there is a small chance that Craster will share even a meal’s worth of his resources. After, Ygritte isn’t sure where they’ll go. It wasn’t wise to continue on with Mance’s camp, not when Mance’s vision is becoming bigger than himself and there are rumors of dead men walking.

Ygritte isn’t superstitious but he believes that the dead stay dead.

If they’re lucky, they could try to sneak onto the other side of the Wall. That would only put them back in Winterfell’s territory and there’s no doubt in Ygritte’s mind that Joanna will want to return to her family if he brings her close enough. He has no place in Winterfell and surely Eddard Stark will execute him for kidnapping his daughter, even if she is a bastard. Sometimes he feels as though Joanna has affections for him but that alone won’t be enough to save him from Stark’s sword.

“Are you sure this is the right direction?” Joanna asks the further they get from Mance’s camp.

It is. Ygritte is abandoning his people, a cause he wasn’t sure if he truly believed in. A leader some mockingly call a king even though they promised themselves they’d never kneel to a king.

“Do you trust me?” he asks her instead.

Joanna studies him carefully. He’s been walking faster than her on purpose, so he can lead without her questioning him. With a few hastened steps, she comes close enough to knock their shoulders together. Joanna keeps her eyes ahead and much to surprise, reaches to link their fingers together.

Her answer, Ygritte supposes.

Ygritte squeezes her hand tighter and tugs her along. Silently, he hopes that he’s not leading the both of them to their death.

 

*

 

The closer they approach to Craster’s Keep, the more hesitant Ygritte becomes. They can’t turn back.

Ygritte does, however, dream of Craster looming over him, even larger than one of Mance’s giants as he takes Joanna from him. Once he wakes up, he decides for the both of them that Joanna will stay at their small camp while Ygritte barters a deal. He tells her, “If I don’t return in five days, leave without me. Go back to Mance, tell him I’m dead if you have to. Val will protect you.”

Color comes back to Joanna’s face and her lips turn into a stern line. “You had me come all this way to leave me behind! If Craster is that dangerous, I should go with you.”

“A lady shouldn’t have to deal with the likes of Caster,” Ygritte says.

“Must I remind you, I'm no lady,” Joanna challenges him.

Ygritte looks at his lady, exhaling through his mouth. A puff of smoke disappears into the small space between them. Maybe a lord would hit his lady wife to put her into his place but Ygritte is no lord and Joanna is not his wife. She would certainly return the favor because weak is not something Eddard Stark had raised her to be.

“You will not like a man like Craster,” Ygritte warns.

“Tell me why.”

Joanna’s hair is much longer than when he first laid eyes on her and she lets the curls frame her face without a care. She doesn’t try to style it as many of the ladies in Stark’s court had.

Ygritte places the hair which blows into her face with the chilly wind behind her ear.

“He keeps his daughters to be his wives and kills all his sons. He’s a savage in all the ways I believe you have been taught to see the free folk.”

“I want to go,” she insists.

He laughs, small and empty. Pressing their foreheads together, he closes his eyes for a moment. “There is no other way I can change your mind?”

“No.” Joanna slips her cold, gloved hands between the layers of Ygritte’s clothes. She tips her head up until their lips nearly touch. “But I feel I can change yours.”

“And how do you intend on accomplishing that?” he asks, teasing.

Joanna shows the barest of smiles. Her lips nearly kiss his then she’s pulling away, stealing his knapsack from him. “I’ll just have to follow you. Whether you want my company or not.” Triumphantly, she puts his bag onto her shoulders and begins to gather her things. She had thought that they were stopping to eat together but now plans have changed.

Craster is not happy to have visitors but he doesn’t try to have them killed immediately nor does it seem that he has a secret code in which he sends one of his wives off to alert the Night Watch of their presence. Truly, they don’t know where Mance is currently and unless Craster asks, Ygritte has no plans on mentioning the man. Craster and Mance have a bad history of which Ygritte has never asked for details of.

“If you want something of me,” Craster says and Ygritte knew asking a favor of Craster would come with a price, “then I want something of you. Comfort, perhaps.” Craster eyes Joanna lewdly although he has one of his daughter-wives perched on his lap.

Joanna tries to stay brave but Ygritte can sense how she tries hiding behind him, at least partially.

“I appreciate the notion you think I’m handsome, but I feel inclined to decline.” Ygritte knows it won’t mean much but he tries to make himself look bigger. He widens his stance and crosses his arms across his chest. For once, Ygritte thinks Joanna will let him be. She may not like to be protected like a lady but Ygritte can’t picture a sane woman of any kind who would go into Craster’s arms of her own free will.

Joanna stays firm in her place, though she reaches a hand to fist the back of Ygritte’s clothes.

“You know what I mean, boy.” Craster scrowls. “That’s awfully selfish of you to come into my home, asking for food when the least you could give me is a taste of your girl’s sweet cunt. They’re always sweeter when they’re young like this,” the crusty old man says, stroking his daughter’s cheek. She flinches at the gesture, closing her eyes in surprise, but stays frozen otherwise.

Joanna tries not to seem weak. She wants to hide her face into Ygritte’s back but she doesn’t want Craster to mistake her action for anything else than what it is. She’s afraid of Ygritte giving her away but she has faith that he won’t. After all, he had told her to stay and she stubbornly accompanied him despite his warnings.

“Perhaps we can arrange for something else,” Ygritte says. He smiles charmingly but tight. Tense.

Craster sighs. He looks as though he means to tell Ygritte to fuck off but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Father!” a child yells, interrupting the proceedings. She’s small, maybe smaller than Arya, Joanna thinks. There’s a young woman who comes running in after her. Her mother, or maybe her sister. Joanna can’t be sure with Craster and his family.

“What?” he barks, displeased. He pushes the wife off his lap. “Nella, I thought I told you to keep your brat out while I’m with company!”

Nella, a girl who must not be too much older than Joanna, Ygritte thinks sourly. He wrinkles his nose. It becomes more and more apparent to him that Craster is as nasty as a man as the other free folk say.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just that we found the missing ranger from the Watch. We couldn’t decide if we should alert you now or wait but before we could agree on a decision, Ella went running off,” Nella explains. She keeps her eyes mostly downcast, holding her daughter’s hand tight so she can’t move.

Joanna gasps. Craster can’t hear it but Ygritte does. He keeps himself composed.

“Fine, so be it. Bring him in,” Craster orders.

Nella goes off and a few wives look, tempted to follow until Craster waves a hand at them, dismissing them. It takes four girls, although Ygritte thinks a fifth could have helped if they knew how. They struggle to take a full grown man into Craster’s hall. The man appears unconscious and his face is so pale Ygritte questions whether the man has any life left in him.

Sighing, Craster rests his chin on his palm for a moment. He’s bored but in recognizing who the frozen man is, his interest is renewed.

“Benjen Stark,” he comments with a sour laugh. “Not how I imagined a proud ranger coming into my keep. Though I suppose a thorn in Rayder’s side is an ally of mine.” Craster crooks a finger at two of his wives sitting prettily near him, or as pretty as they may be with their crooked teeth and his features on his face. “Warm him up. I don’t want to have to explain to Mormont how I came about Stark’s corpse.”

The ladies cover Benjen’s still body in dry furs, wrapping it around him until he’s cocooned.

“We will continue this another day if you change your mind,” Craster tells Ygritte. “I’m not often this generous so don’t expect a second chance in the future.”

Joanna holds onto Ygritte stronger, though she peeks around him to peer at her unconscious uncle. “No,” she whispers, seemingly talking to herself.

“What was that?” Craster cuts in.

Joanna feels her eyes water and feels foolish for it. “Is he truly dead?”

Craster looks at Joanna up and down. “Mm,” he hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps not now, perhaps later. If the frostbite has already taken it, I’m not going to waste my time nursing a condemned man back to life.”

“But if he’s a ranger from the Night’s Watch, isn’t it better to keep him alive?” Joanna questions.

“It interests me not whether Watch men live or die.” Craster humors Joanna only momentarily. Surprisingly perceptive, he leans back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “You know this man, girl? Is that why he matters to you?” He tilts his head. “I knew there was something strange about you. You southern women are different. _Soft_. But there’s something about you.” Craster leans forward to observe Joanna more carefully. “Almost highborn.”

Joanna’s eyes flit between her uncle and Craster. She wants to choose her uncle.

Benjen never treated her differently because she wasn’t born a son. Her being a bastard didn’t matter to him. He always looks at her a bit sadly, though without pity. If he hates her, he never let that show. Joanna thinks it has to do with her mother. Benjen must’ve known her. Her father never talks about her lest he insult Lady Stark. Someone must know. A midwife, a close friend, a comrade. There must be at least one living soul who knows who she is.

Her uncle groans. He moves his face until his cheek is pressed into the tarp the ladies placed him on to carry him inside more effectively.

Begrudgingly, one of Craster’s wives convinces Craster to feed Joanna and Ygritte. The whole time Benjen remains laid out on the cold ground. There’s a fire going but there isn’t enough to warm her uncle.

Ygritte wants to leave. He doesn’t want the ranger to know that his niece is here. Joanna doesn’t but Ygritte doesn’t give her that option. They take off after dinner.

“My uncle!” Joanna tells Ygritte once again, batting her fists against his chest in protest as he drags her through the snow. Their scant belongings have been falling out of the bag Ygritte has been carrying for the both of them. Between trying to control Joanna and collecting their things, Ygritte is beginning to get annoyed.

“Do you think I’m deaf?” he cuts in. “The fact that that was your uncle is precisely the reason why we’re leaving!”

“But he’s injured. I need to make sure that he’s okay,” Joanna insists. They’ve barely made it off of Craster’s land, though Ygritte imagines any land around Craster’s place could be his. There’s no one else who lives out here that could possibly claim it.

“He’ll take you back,” Ygritte warns.

Joanna hesitates. Beside her, Ghost winds around their feet, distancing them. “I know,” she says in a smaller voice.

“Joanna, please,” Ygritte says, trying for a different approach, “come with me. Trust me.” He extends a hand to her.

Quietly, she considers her options. Her uncle will certainly send her home to Winterfell, perhaps even escorting her himself. She doesn’t know if her father truly went to King’s Landing to become the Hand. In which case, it would be just her and Robb. The other children would have left with her father and soon, she is sure that Lady Stark will send her away as well if she managed to return home.

She wonders if Lady Stark allowed her father to search for her at all. Without her presence, Sansa would become the oldest daughter. Not that she ever knew her father to be planning marrying her off to some lord. It is likely an offense her honorable father would never commit. How insulting it would be to be offered a marriage to a _bastard_.

Joanna squeezes her eyes shut tight, not wanting to cry. Arya would miss her, hopefully. Although without Joanna’s influence maybe her half-sister would finally be able to become the lady that Lady Stark wants Arya to be. She is at least a bit certain that Robb would miss her. Maybe not now that’s been gone so long, but at first. They were close but half their closeness often felt like it was just Robb mediating interactions between her and Theon.

She, herself, even told her uncle that it would be better if she was born a boy. That way she could take the black.

“Joanna,” Ygritte says. He shoos Ghost away, nearly stepping on the beast to get closer to Joanna. Sweetly, he brushes the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His hand is still out, waiting for her to take it.

She doesn’t want to be a burden.

Bravely, she takes Ygritte’s hand, feeling the warmth beneath his gloves. The tears are frozen on her cheeks and she rushes to brush them away before he can see. If he did, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he kisses her forehead, sighing in relief. Joanna holds his hand tighter and squeezes.

He pushes her in front to lead so when she turns around one last time to look for her uncle it’s Ygritte that she sees.

 

***

 

Joanna feels light on her feet while running through the forest. The cold barely causes a shiver as it usually would. Some of the people she passes are scared by her presence but it makes getting by them all the much easier. One even leaves a door ajar as they rush to get out of her way.

Her uncle, now sitting up, rubs at his arms. His cot is on the floor which must not help at all with the cold so helpfully, she runs to him and rubs her body against his back. Uncle Benjen stiffens, his eyes downcast and shoulders scrunched to hide his neck.

Joanna whines. She leaves the cot to wipe her paws clean at the fire. Her uncle studies her carefully. He doesn’t seem afraid of her, only curious as she is.

Walking to him, she huffs at the air. Human forms are so inefficient, so poorly built for the cold. She considers cuddling up to him again but she doesn’t want to make him afraid again. Instead, she sits at his feet, extending her body until she thinks her nose might touch his.

Uncle Benjen pets her on the head hesitantly, scratching his fingers right against the sensitive spot behind her ear. He looks more clearly into her eyes, mouth poised to speak. What he says, she can’t understand. Joanna isn’t concerned. She’s quite sleepy.

He continues talking to her, asking her things she can’t answer and she ignores all of it, choosing to rest her head on her paws. She’ll answer his questions another time. For now, she wants to rest.


End file.
